


The Tramp

by SociopathicAngel



Category: Marvel
Genre: AOU and CW do not exist here, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluffy animals galore, Insecurities galore, Loki is a cock blocking twit, M/M, Miscommunications to the extreme, Natasha Is a Good Bro, POV Alternating, Rabbits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 19:12:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7544563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SociopathicAngel/pseuds/SociopathicAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve makes a startling discovery regarding the man he thought to be his best friend, Tony falls in love with small four-legged balls of fluff, no one except Natasha can communicate effectively, and Loki is a master interrupter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tramp

**Author's Note:**

> Actual summary that makes sense:  
> On occasion, Tony takes up acting jobs under an alias. One of his jobs was the '92 documentary on Charlie Chaplin, who just so happens to be Steve's favorite actor of all time. Except, Tony never told anyone about it. Que major over-analyzing, rampant insecurities, and teeth grittingly frustrating mixed signals that are resolved with the help of bunnies and master communicator Natasha Romanov with the added not-so-helpful bored villain, Loki.
> 
> Warning: This fic DOES contain sex. If you don't like that, you can skip the end bit.

When you’ve gone and slept through the better part of a century, you miss quite a lot. Sure, technology is incredibly more advanced, but it all runs relatively the same. That was the easy part, really. Steve had always been a fast learner, especially with new tech. He’d practically been Howard’s guinea pig back in the war. So, while he did still get tripped up now and then by all the bells and whistles on a piece of tech that Tony threw at him – tech Howard probably couldn’t have even imagined – it wasn’t the technology that Steve was struggling to catch up on.

No, it was the literature.

So many books, movies, songs, works of art – so many new things put out every year. Things that everyone _else_ knew about, that they referenced in everyday conversation and simply expected others around them to understand. And it all went right over his head.

Blessedly, the team was more than happy to oversee Steve’s “education.” Bruce was in charge books and foods, Pepper was art, Natasha was history and fighting styles, Clint was society and – oddly enough – fashion, and Tony had claimed all music ever. Steve, for the most part, handled movies all on his own. Save for team movie nights or some big-name “must see in order to continue living” movies, Steve picked his way through cinema at his own pace.

He’d devised a system with Jarvis, and was slowly but surely picking his way up to present time, going one decade at a time. They had a program for it. First, everything was organised chronologically by year, then by most popular/referenced within that year grouping, followed by any that were done by actors he’d known in his days or ones he’d taken a liking to, and then finally any leftovers that Jarvis felt he should see. Maybe it wasn’t the most effective system they could’ve come up with, but it worked for him, Steve loved watching the actors he’d known progress with the ages. His favourite, both then and now, was Charlie Chaplin. Steve adored everything about the man, and when he and Jarvis were first creating Steve’s “Movie Education Program” (or MEP, which Steve found too ironic and cringe-worthy to bother changing), Chaplin had been the first Steve requested to follow.

“On to the 90’s, Captain?” Jarvis inquired.

“Might as well,” Steve sighed, glancing over at his bedside clock.

The display shone 02:51 in pale blue, the same colour as Tony’s arc reactor. Steve didn’t know if that similarity had been intentional, but it made him smile all the same.

“Shall we stick to the Program, or would you like to make a request?”

“Sam mentioned there being a Chaplin documentary?” Steve offered. “I think he said it was in this decade.”

Jarvis didn’t reply right away, which of course immediately put Steve on alert.

“You would be correct,” Jarvis allowed slowly.

“Is there something wrong with it, Jarvis?”

“Not at all, Master Rogers. It was very well received by the public-”

“Then why the pause?” Steve pressed, suspicious now.

Again, Jarvis paused.

“ _Jarvis.”_

Jarvis never did reply. Instead, the movie simply began playing on Steve’s wall-television. Steve squinted at the screen, confused. Surely that couldn’t be… But it sure did look an awful lot like…

“Jarvis, who is the man playing Chaplin in this film?” Steve asked.

A pause, then, “That would be Sir.”

“Tony?”

“Yes, Master Rogers.”

“As in Tony Stark. _Our_ Tony?”

“The very same.”

“Dear Lord, he looks so young,” Steve breathed in awe. “I didn’t know he acted.”

“Sir gets bored now and then.”

“How did he get into this?”

“You would have to ask Sir that. He has never shared these details with me. Would you like to continue, Master Rogers?”

“Oh, yes please. Start it over though? I missed a bit.”

Roughly two and a half hours later, Steve was still sitting in bed, wide awake, eyes glued to the screen and bottom lip caught thoughtfully in his teeth. Now that the initial surprise had worn off, Steve was simply _delighted._ To see a man he’d idolized as a child, that he’d grown up watching, being so wonderfully portrayed by a man that he’d come to admire and call his friend in real life… Well, Steve wasn’t entirely sure just what to do with this information.

“Jarvis, is Tony awake?” Steve asked once the credits had finally come to an end.

He always watched them all the way through, even though the team teased him mercilessly for it. Someone had put in the effort to compile all of that, it felt rude to ignore it once the “real” movie was over. Besides, he liked to keep track of the names of actors in the films he watched.

“Surprisingly, no. Sir retired two point three hours ago, ending his three day working streak. Based on prior data, he should remain asleep for a minimum of ten more hours,” Jarvis supplied.

“Oh. I won’t bother him then. Don’t mention me watching this to him yet, okay? I want to ask him about it myself,” Steve said.

“Of course, Master Rogers. Shall I put on the next on the Program?” Jarvis offered.

“No, thank you, Jarvis. I think that’s enough for tonight.”

“Very well. Goodnight, Master Rogers.”

“Night, Jarvis.”

 

The next morning, Tony had up and left for a meeting before Steve had even finished his morning workout.

“What happened to ten hours, Jarvis?” Steve grumped as he pulled a fresh water bottle from the fridge.

“I had not anticipated Sir to actually heed Ms. Pott’s summons on his own. Such an event is incredibly rare.”

Steve let out an amused huff and let it go. He could wait. Probably. Honestly, the discovery had opened up a floodgate of curiosity. Tony was easily one of Steve’s closest friends – despite the rough start – and after finding the Chaplin film, Steve realized how little he actually knew about him. He’d thought he had, they both certainly shared with each other. They could spend hours swapping tales on nights when sleeping proved more exhausting than staying awake. Tony knew Chaplin was Steve’s all-time favourite too. So why hadn’t he mentioned it before?

“Woah now. It is _way_ too early for anyone to be thinking that hard, Cap,” Clint complained upon entering the kitchen. “Seriously, you’re giving _me_ a headache just looking at you.”

“Any amount of thinking gives you a headache, Barton,” Natasha chirped from behind him. “You are looking awfully broody over there though, Steve. What’s up?”

“Nothing important-”

“Bullshit,” Clint coughed, then dodged Natasha’s swipe at him.

“No, really-”

“Steve.”

“Okay fine. Just. You ever find out something totally unexpected about a person you thought you knew really well and get kinda thrown by it?” Steve offered helplessly.

“Oh my god. Did Stark finally do it?” Clint breathed, eyes going huge. “Details, man. I need details. A lot of money is riding on the details here.”

Natasha succeeded in hitting him this time. “No, you idiot. And _hush.”_

“What? No, Tony hasn’t done anything – well, I mean he _did,_ but not recently. Like, in the nineties not recently,” Steve scrambled to explain.

“Oh no. Did you find the sex tapes?! Not that they’re bad or anything. Very artful. And let it be said that Stark is a very-”

“ _Clint,”_ Natasha snapped.

Steve didn’t think his face could get any warmer without actually catching on fire.

“No, not _those._ Wait, there’s more than one?”

“ _Dude-”_

“Boys. Focus,” Natasha sighed. “Steve, what did you find out?”

“I can’t believe _Captain America_ has seen a Tony Stark sex tape!” Clint crowed, positively _gleeful._ “Man, which one was it? Was it the one with the-”

“Barton, out. Shoo,” Natasha ordered, corralling a complaining Clint out the door. “You’re done here.”

Steve gaged the distance between himself, the door, and Natasha, trying to estimate his chances of successfully escaping what was sure to be a “Steve, you’re being a dumb” lecture. A single look at Natasha’s arched and expectant eyebrow was enough to squash any hope of freedom into the dust. Steve sighed, waiting for her to take the seat across from him at the table.

“Alright, talk. What did Stark do in the nineties? Besides his various sexual escapades and his need to document them,” Natasha added, clearly trying to smother her amusement on the matter.

Steve ducked his head a bit, trying to clear the (not entirely displeasing) images that immediately sprung to mind.

“Did you know he’s acted? Like, professionally acted in a movie,” Steve clarified when her eyebrow threatened to disappear into her hairline.

“No, I can’t say I did. It’s not in his file, at least,” She admitted somewhat begrudgingly.

“I just found it last night, while going through the MEP. It’s a Charlie Chaplin documentary with Tony as Chaplin and… He did a pretty darn good job. He looks like an _infant_ in it, but I mean, I forgot it was actually him once or twice,” Steve praised, smile quickly fading.

“So, he’s done film. Why’s it bothering you?” Natasha pressed lightly.

“It’s just… He knows I love Chaplin. Why wouldn’t he have ever mentioned it to any of us?” Steve asked, the ‘why wouldn’t he have ever mentioned it to _me’_ going unspoken.

Natasha sat back in her chair, eyeing him consideringly. “Well, perhaps he’s embarrassed by it? I know it doesn’t sound like the Stark we know, but he’s always kept things he actually cares about _very_ close to heart. He puts on a show for the whole world just to hide himself. You know that, Steve.”

“I do, and _that_ is what’s throwing me. I know Tony is a skilled actor, he’s around the press too much _not_ to be… But that persona, the Tony Stark ™ act, that’s still a part of _him._ He put on a completely different person in that movie,” Steve explained, or at least tried to. “If he’s that good of an actor, what’s to say he’s never done that around us? That he’s never acted his way out or in order to get something?”

“Steve, we _all_ do that now and then. Clint and I have been undercover agents for years and you’ve never once questioned our sincerity. Look, Stark may act now and then around us, but he’d never do it maliciously… _especially_ to you,” Natasha added firmly. “Why don’t you try talking to him about it? At least mention that you found the documentary. Maybe he’ll explain why he never told you about it. Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past him to have just forgotten about it.”

“Yeah… Maybe. And you’re right, I’m being stupid. Thanks, Nat,” Steve said, giving her a weak grin.

She reached across the table to give his hand a quick squeeze before standing and heading out of the kitchen. Steve remained where he was for a while longer, gently rubbing at a smudge on the tabletop and considering her words.

Steve had promised himself that this revelation wouldn’t change anything, that he wouldn’t treat Tony any differently for having acted in and withheld Steve from the movie. Well, he’d tried to promise himself that. He wasn’t terribly successful. Around Tony, everything was fine. It was all normal, they hung out and had fun just the same as they always had. It was once Steve had left, once he was alone, that he started over analyzing every little bit of their time together. He couldn’t shake the idea that it was all an act, that Tony was just _pretending_ to be his friend and to care about spending time with him.

Who was Steve trying to kid? Tony was _way_ out of his league. Out of the entire team’s league really. Tony was famous, like extremely famous, and not just for his company. He was a public idol, a media doll. Even taking the fame away from that, he was so rich that Steve couldn’t even think about it for more than a few seconds without his head spinning. Tony was, and Steve could admit this, a very attractive man. He _breathed_ charisma. Not to mention, the man truly was a genius. Once he and Bruce started going, Steve had absolutely no hope of keeping up.

And really, what did they even have in common outside of herroing? Their fighting styles, while oddly complementary, couldn’t be any more different.

Even before having seen the film, Steve would sometimes find himself questioning this strange friendship he’d found himself in. He knew Tony acted, he’d seen it first hand any time they got caught out in public by the press, or during charity galas. Back then, Steve had just taken that as him being good enough friends with him to recognize when he was faking it.

Now, he wasn’t too sure that Tony wasn’t faking it more often than not. It made sense the more he thought about it. The team couldn’t work if they all didn’t get along. They’d proved that back on the helicarrier. So, wouldn’t it make sense for Tony to put on a front for the sake of team cohesion? That probably extended to hanging out with Steve too. Happy Captain, Happy Team – as Clint liked to say now and then.

Steve just couldn’t shake the thought that there was literally _nothing_ about him that would logically draw in someone like Tony Stark… So why was Tony spending so much time with him? What could Tony _possibly_ gain from seeking out Steve’s company?

“ _Duuuude,_ the kitchen is _seriously_ not your brooding zone,” Clint whined.

Steve looked up from his cereal, blinking in surprise. “I am not-”

“Don’t even, man. You are totally sulking it up over there. Again.”

Steve sat back in his chair with a sigh, abandoning his bowl entirely to level the archer with a resigned look. Clint looked like he could barely be qualified as awake right now, and was twirling an arrow lazily through his fingers. He had an eyebrow raised.

“You gonna share, Cap?”

“I’m just being dumb. It’s… Did Natasha tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Oh. Uh, never mind-”

“No! No no no, you don’t get to back out now!” Clint chirped, instantly more awake and leaning forward. “What was she supposed to tell me?”

“Nothing-”

“No one tells you anything anyway, bird,” Tony said loudly as he strode in. “What are we not telling?”

“ _Nothing-”_

“Cap has been sulking lately and he won’t fess up why. Nat knows, apparently,” Clint added crossly, shooting Steve a mock-offended look.

“Having troubles, mon Capitaine?” Tony asked, dropping into the seat next to Steve and reaching to steal his coffee.

Steve moved the mug out of reach, endured the kicked puppy look for all of three seconds, then moved it back into Tony’s grasping hands. Tony cooed in pleasure, drawing the mug close as if to protect it from Steve.

“Seriously, what’s up?” Tony pressed.

“Nothing important. It won’t effect me in the field, so-”

“I don’t care about that. But the Bird is right, you have been mopey lately. So, what’s up,” He repeated, going so far as to set the mug down entirely and devote his focus to Steve.

Steve floundered for a moment, glancing across the table for an escape – Clint was gone. He’d abandoned him.

“It’s nothing, really,” Steve tried again.

“Steven Grant Rogers, you are the worst liar to have ever lied. If you _really_ don’t want to tell me, then fine. I’ll drop it for now and bug you again later about it,” Tony promised, arching a brow at him.

“No, it’s really nothing. I’m just being stupid. Got confused during my Education with Jarvis and it’s been messing with me. We’re working on it,” Steve added.

He didn’t elaborate on who “we” were. There really wasn’t a “we.” He and Natasha had spoken about it briefly, but that’d been it. Steve had never had these sorts of prolonged insecurities before. He just couldn’t seem to shake this one.

Tony was staring at him, dark eyes flickering over Steve’s face, reading him. Steve tried to put on his most honest face. Whatever he managed seemed to be enough, because Tony sighed and sank back in his seat, reaching for the coffee again. Steve returned his attention to his cereal, only to find it had gone soggy. Not one to let food go to waste, Steve reluctantly picked up his spoon to continue.

“J, what was the last movie he watched on the list?” Tony asked suddenly.

Steve choked on his mouthful of soggy cereal.

“Master Rogers last viewed _A League of Their Own,_ Sir. He appeared to have enjoyed it,” Jarvis replied.

Tony turned to Steve for confirmation.

“Yeah, that one was great. I really liked it,” Steve said honestly.

“Not the one that you got hung up on? Tony guessed. “J-”

“Tony, really. It’s fine.”

“No, no. If I can find out which one it is maybe I can fix this. What decade are you one?”

“The Nineties, but-”

“Oh man there were a lot of good ones then. What order are you guys even going in? J, pull up the algorithm, I wanna see,” Tony requested.

The table space in front of him blinked to life, filled with lines of code. Tony hunched over it and started scrolling, making a small noise of interest every now and then. He paused halfway through, scrolled up to recheck something, then stared at the table with a contemplative frown. He shrugged a minute later and swiped the program away. Steve took the time to finish his cereal, then retrieved Tony’s mug before heading for the sink. He refilled the mug, making it to Tony’s more preferred taste, and set it down at Tony’s hand. Tony beamed at him.

“Steve, darling, light of my life,” Tony swooned, snatching up the fresh mug. “Sweetheart, it’s perfect.”

Steve ducked his head, scrubbing out his bowl carefully and ignoring how his face suddenly felt warmer. Tony made a rather obscene sound behind him, and Steve risked a glance over his shoulder to find him giving his mug a completely sinful look. He quickly turned back to the sink, trying to swallow around his suddenly dry throat.

“Are we still on for that gallery opening thingy you were raving about the other week?” Tony asked a moment later.

Steve paused, chewing his lip. He’d forgotten about that.

“Actually, I was going to head down to the rabbit shelter in a bit. I missed last week because of Doom, figured I’d make up for it,” Steve decided.

That could work. Tony never went to the shelters, he usually just donated an obscene amount of money every now and then-

“Awesome. I’ll go change into hair-friendly attire then!” Tony announced cheerfully, already sweeping out of the kitchen before Steve could respond.

“Oh,” Steve breathed, stunned.

That happened.

Steve wandered off to his room to get himself ready, trying to make sense of what had just happened while also trying to not read too much into it. Tony had never tagged along to his charity work before, had never even shown the slightest bit of interest in it. He’d get this odd look on his face whenever Steve mentioned it, a soft kind of smile, but he never actually showed interest in tagging along. The places Steve did visit had a tendency to receive sudden, very generous “anonymous” donation after Steve mentioned them though.

* * *

 

Tony checked himself over in the mirror one last time, trying to decide if the circles under his eyes were actually as dark as he thought they were, or if it was just the lighting. He was definitely showing just a bit of his exhaustion. To be expected really, especially after the two-day working stint he was coming off of. He’d intended to grab a cup of coffee, maybe a granola bar or something, then head up to his room to crash for the next day or so. Finding Steve already in the kitchen had sparked his memory about the date they’d planned.

He couldn’t say he was too disappointed about changing it really. It was fun watching Steve react to art, and some of the stuff was rather nice, but going to an animal shelter sounded _loads_ better. Watching Steve interact with kids and animals was way up there on Tony’s “Too Pure For This World” list.

Steve was already dressed and waiting when Tony made it back to the kitchen, and he had to take a moment to simply stare at him.

“Did Natasha take you clothes shopping?” Tony asked dumbly.

“What? Oh, no. Pepper did when she visited last week,” Steve said, glancing down at his clothes with a tiny frown. “Is there something wrong with it? I can go change real quick-”

“No, no. Absolutely nothing wrong. Definitely stick with this style, it’s a good look on you,” Tony added, looking him over once more.

Steve ducked his head, ears reddening. “Thanks, I think. You sure you want to come? You don’t have to.”

“Steve, think of the baby bunnies. Of course I want to, there’s _baby bunnies.”_

Steve stared at him for a long moment, that odd look back on his face. He’d been doing that a lot lately, and Tony really couldn’t figure out what it meant. It’d led him to check his teeth or face for grease smudges on multiple occasions. There _had_ been some grease on his face on a few of those times, but that didn’t appear to be the cause for the staring. This one was lasting a bit longer than normal though, and Tony was starting to get a bit anxious under it.

“Um, unless you don’t want me to go? I mean, I guess I did kind of invite myself, which was shitty of me I probably shouldn’t have. I can just. Not. This is probably one of your things, right? You don’t need me tagging along-” Tony rambled nervously, starting to back towards the elevator.

Steve was suddenly in front of him, hands gripping his shoulders to stop his stumbling retreat. Tony snapped his jaw shut with a harsh click and tensed uncertainly under the contact.

“Tony, stop. You’re fine,” Steve reassured quickly. “I’m fine with you coming with me. I would _like_ for you to come with me... And when have you ever cared about inviting yourself to things anyway?”

Tony stammered for a minute. “You… I don’t know, you had this weird look on your face so I thought… I’d overstepped something? I know you’re real big on your privacy and stuff.”

Steve’s expression seemed to soften and he brushed his hands over Tony’s arms in a soothing sweep.

“You’re fine, Tony. I was just thinking about something. Come on, let’s go see the baby bunnies,” Steve said, smiling.

Tony smiled back, sagging with relief. He really couldn’t figure out where exactly he stood with Steve. They’d been going out on dates for several months now, four to be exact, but nothing had seemed to actually change between them. And Tony was fine with that, he wasn’t about to press for more if Steve wasn’t ready for it, but he was _dying_ to be able to even just hold his hand when they went out. There were times when it seemed like they weren’t even dating, when Steve treated Tony just as he would Clint or Sam. Then there were times like this one, where Steve handled and soothed Tony’s rampant insecurity so well.

Tony had ranted about it to Rhodey once or twice. Steve _was_ the one who’d asked first, and yet he seemed perfectly content not to make another move. Tony couldn’t figure out if he was waiting for him to do, or if he just wasn’t ready. Rhodey was absolutely no help either. His whole take on it was just to give him time. Still, four months. Tony had never had a relationship move so slowly before. Not that necessarily he had much experience with _real_ relationships…

Steve’s hand had moved to press between his shoulder blades, gently steering him out of the kitchen and towards the elevator. Tony went easily, too happy at the contact to fuss over being manhandled for once. Not that he imagined he’d mind being manhandled by Steve. Which was definitely a line of thought he needed to drop right now. Baby bunnies. Rabbits, buns, small balls of fluff. Yep, that line of thought was _totally_ dropped.

The doors opened to the garage, Steve’s hand moved down to his lower back and nudged him over to his usual car of choice – a black Bentley that wasn’t quite as flashy as some of Tony’s other cars.

Steve opened his door for him, as he always did when he was the one driving, and closed it behind him before rounding the car to slide into the driver’s side. Tony was fiddling with the radio as soon as it came on, landing on a station they could both agree on, and quickly snapping on his seat belt before Steve could turn his Righteous Eyebrow of Judgement on him. The drive was fairly short, comfortably silent, save for the radio. Steve drove like he did everything else, with efficiency and skill. That’d been a surprise at first. Tony had expected him to drive like a grandpa, but Steve had no issue zipping between lanes. He just did it was a finesse and vigilance that Tony could never be bothered with.

The shelter had been open for barely an hour when they arrived, and the staff were more than happy to put them to work with the morning routine. Tony had never been here before and required a bit more guidance than Steve, but he picked it up quickly enough. By the time breakfast had been served to everyone and waters had been refreshed, Tony was well and truly covered with hair. And more than a bit in love.

He hadn’t meant for it to happen. Really. Hadn’t planned on it at all. He’d been helping an older woman, Mrs. Hankins, with the rabbits in the back. She had dropped a pair in a playpen, handed him a brush, and left him to it. Tony had happily sat down with the two and set to work. When Steve came to find him not ten minutes later, Tony was already a goner.

“How much are the adoption fees here?” Tony asked in lieu of a greeting.

Steve paused, still only halfway through stepping into the pen. “I’m not sure. Why?”

Tony ducked his head and went back to stroking the bun beside him. He’d abandoned the brush a while ago, which the buns were completely fine with as they seemed to have a personal vendetta against it and preferred trying to eat it over actually getting groomed by it. Steve stepped all the way in and carefully lowered himself to floor. The other rabbit, a light grey with a darker pinstripe down its side, immediately hopped over to sniff at his leg, giving it a little double nose-bump before scampering off. Tony stretched out his fist to accept a nose-bump of his own from it. The one beside him, this one brown and looking more like a native hare with very large ears, bounced off to join its companion. Tony stared after them, lovestruck.

“You’re not seriously considering…” Steve trailed off, looking between Tony and the rabbits.

Tony looked up at him, bottom lip caught between his teeth, and nodded vigorously.

“Do you even know anything _about_ rabbits?” Steve asked.

“Of course. My mother had four when I was young. I used to take care of them, especially towards the end. They aren’t really like cats or dogs, and I’ve been wanting to get some for a while, but… I never had the opportunity to go look. It’s not really something you can order online. Buns don’t just bond with anyone,” Tony added, reaching out to stroke the darker rabbit again.

Steve was staring at him again. This time, though, he was smiling a bit.

“I’ll go find Mrs. Hankins,” Steve said softly, gently rising and stepping out of the pen.

Tony grinned at him, not bothering to hide his love at all. This time, it wasn’t purely for the rabbits. Steve blinked at him, startled, and hurried off. Tony couldn’t bring himself to be bothered by it. He was much too focused on the small balls of fluff that were scampering around him, and on the immense, pure _happiness_ that had filled him.

“Steve tells me you’re interested in adopting?” Mrs. Hankins asked, stopping outside the pen.

Steve wasn’t with her, though Tony couldn’t be too concerned by that. He stood, trying not to startle the buns with any sudden movements, and stepped out to join her.

“Yes, ma’am,” Tony confirmed cheerfully.

“Have you owned rabbits before?”

“I have.”

“Well, I’ll send you home today with a few informational packets so you can get everything set up. They’ll need to go get a check up with our vet before they’re ready to leave. Would you like to set up a pickup date?” She inquired, already leading him back to the reception desk to start grabbing papers.

“What’s today? Saturday? Would next Sunday be good?”

They spent the next hour going over details and supplies, along with brushing up on some of the more general rabbit care upon Tony’s request. He remembered all too well watching his mother’s first rabbit die from improper diet. Five year-old him had spent hours researching after that, determined to make sure that never happened again. The others had lived long, happy lives thanks to his efforts. Well, until Tony had been leaving for MIT and Howard decided he couldn’t be arsed to hire a caretaker for them for the _one year_ Tony wouldn’t be able to have them with him. He’d never forgiven him for that, nor had he found out just what Howard had done with them.

Tony left the shelter with a bounce in his step and a grin. Steve was dogging along behind him, bemused.

“Have time for lunch?” Tony asked before they reached the car. “There’s a wonderful diner just around the block. Never had any problem with the paparazzi there either.”

Steve agreed readily, and they decided to walk since it wasn’t that far off. Tony continued to skip ahead, unable to contain his excitement, and had to double back more than once when Steve lagged too far behind. Through the whole walk and lunch, Steve continued to watch him with such fondness Tony could barely restrain himself from dragging him down to kiss him. Barely. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this happy.

It was this high of bliss that spurred him to throw “wait and see” to the wind and reach across the table to take Steve’s hand in his during lunch. They were going back and forth with pros-and-cons of the original _Star Trek_ series versus the newer movies, and Tony had the sudden desire to be holding Steve’s hand. So he did. He reached over and gently picked up his hand, absently running his fingers over Steve’s as he continued talking, tracing the calluses on his fingers and the veins on the back of his hand. He hadn’t even really realized what he was doing until he looked up to get Steve’s take on the new phaser designs and found him staring at Tony with that strange look on his face again. Tony immediately stilled, taking stock of himself.

He hesitantly withdrew his hand with a mumbled apology and gingerly reached instead for the bill that’d been left at the edge of the table ages ago. Steve, for once, didn’t even argue when Tony pulled out his wallet. They left quickly after, Steve in a brooding sort of silence and Tony in an anxious one. The elevator ride up was just as quiet, with Steve stepping off at his floor without a word and leaving Tony standing there, chewing on the side of his thumb and waiting for the floor to his workshop.

“ _Sir, you have been awake for a total of fifty-two point four hours,”_ Jarvis piped up the second he’d stepped through the doors. “ _I really must advise you rest before returning to work.”_

Tony slumped down into his rolling chair in front of his computer bank. “Pull up Project Midnight Rider?” He requested softly.

After a brief pause, the blueprints filled the screens. Tony stared at them for a long moment before slowly reaching forward to tweak a section, then sat back to stare at it again.

“How much longer before this is ready for fabrication?” He asked.

“ _I can begin whenever you wish, sir.”_

“Go ahead.”

Tony took another moment, then stood and shuffled his way over to his private elevator. Gone was the elation of earlier. In its place was now a good deal of sullen resignation. Apparently, he _had_ been reading everything wrong. Steve wasn’t interested in him at all. He probably hadn’t even considered any of their outings in the past four months to have been dates at all.

“But he asked me to dinner,” Tony murmured, sitting down heavily on the edge of his bed.

“ _Sir, Master Rogers is asking for your whereabouts. Shall I bring him up?”_ Jarvis asked, voice hushed.

“No. Tell him I’ve gone to sleep. Put on a movie for me?”

“ _Any preferences?”_

Tony hesitated, considering. “My self-playlist? Reverse chronological?”

He curled up under his covers as the t.v. started up on the opposite wall. Tony hadn’t done many movies, and what he had had been under a solid alias. It’d started with small extra roles when he was a child under his mother’s influence. Since then, it had only been for pictures where he’d been selected specifically for a certain role. If he had the time, he did it. It was fun, a different way to exercise his brain and practice his acting skills for the public.

Tony only made it through half of _Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows_ before exhaustion finally caught up to him.

* * *

 

Steve wasn’t entirely sure what had happened today. First, Tony had completely thrown him for a loop when he decided to tag along to the shelter, which is something he _never_ did. The sudden insecurity before they left had thrown him even further. For all the world it had looked _sincere._ Pepper had mentioned that before though, him being extremely uncertain about people and social interactions. Steve didn’t know if she knew about his brief acting career or not. He couldn’t imagine her not knowing though.

Second, the rabbits. Dear lord, the rabbits. That had been a whole new side of Tony he’d never even seen before. Tony had been practically _glowing_ with sheer adoration for the little things, and when that gaze had turned on _Steve_ with the same intensity… He had honestly thought his heart had stopped for a minute or two. He wanted to believe it. Surely no one could possibly act _that_ well, with _that_ much love. But he couldn’t fathom why that look would have been for him either.

It was the lunch, though, that really threw him off. It had been great, normal for them even. Steve had always marvelled at how easy it had always been for them to hang out. Once they’d gotten through the original animosity, they complemented one another nicely. That lunch had reminded Steve of that, how easy their banter and conversation could flow, up until Tony had casually reached over and started playing with Steve’s hand. He hadn’t even noticed he was doing it at first, not until he realized Steve was no longer participating in the debate. Then, he’d slowly withdrawn. Tony’s expression had shuttered off, but not before Steve had seen a flicker of honest _fear_ in his eyes, and he’d retreated into himself after that. Steve had been shocked into his own mind, trying to decipher what had just happened, what did it mean, did it actually mean _anything?_

It wasn’t until they were in the elevator and Steve had just caught Tony’s reflection in the door just before it opened to let him off that he came back to himself. Tony had looked crushed and resigned in the most horrible way, his eyes downcast and arms wrapped securely around himself. Steve had stepped off, shocked, and immediately turned around to go back in. The doors had already closed.

Steve had slowly wandered back to his room and requested that Jarvis startup _Chaplin_ again. He’d seen it at least four times now, enough to recite it word for word, yet he continued to watch it. The more he watched it, the more convinced he became that he was actually seeing bits of Tony peaking through in his acting.

Steve blinked, staring at the screen and stunned breathless. He had been such a _hypocrite._ Steve had done _dozens_ of shows and films back in the war. Sure, he’d put on a bit of a persona for it, but it had still always been _him._ And he definitely put on a show when they were doing PR stuff.

“Jarvis, where’s Tony?” Steve asked, springing off the bed.

There was a brief pause. “Sir has retired for the night. He had been awake for fifty-two hours prior to returning.”

“Fifty-two…” Steve trailed off, shaking his head in disapproval.

Steve sat back down on the edge of his bed, mulling over his next question.

“Jarvis, you’ve known Tony for a long time… Has he ever… shown interest in men?” Steve asked hesitantly.

“I have record of only one long-term relationship with another male, before my creation. For more information, you would have to ask Mr. Rhodes or Ms. Potts, or Sir himself,” Jarvis added pointedly.

Steve nodded, falling into thought again. He needed someone to rationalize this for him, or at the very least slap some sense into him.

“Where’s Natasha?”

“Agent Romanoff is currently residing in the kitchen.”

Steve chirped out a quick thanks and rushed out of his room, nearly trampling Clint in his haste. Clint hurried off before he could apologize, clutching something close to his chest and curling over it protectively. He kept glancing back furtively. Steve recognized Clint’s “I’m up to something I’m not supposed to be and I know it but that’s not going to stop me” behaviour, but decided it wasn’t worth his time to hunt him down right now. He’d mention it to Natasha after he found her, let her deal with it.

“No,” Natasha said the instant he stepped into the kitchen.

Steve froze. “What?”

“No. Out. We’ve implemented a new Tower Rule: no brooding or making life altering decisions in the kitchen. Go sit in the living room, I’ll be right there,” Natasha ordered.

Steve hesitantly backed out of the room and did as he was told. Natasha joined him a few minutes later, handing him a bottled root beer. Steve accepted it gleefully. It was an obscure, difficult to find brand that had managed to stick around since Steve’s time, and he adored it. Somehow, the fridge was always well stocked with them. Steve would have suspected it to be Tony’s influence, except he wasn’t sure Tony had any idea where most foods and beverages actually came from. The singular time he’d accompanied Steve to the grocery store had been quite an experience for them both, though both had agreed that was better left _as_ a singular experience.

“Alright, why is the Captain moping today?” She asked. “Something to do with our resident genius?”

Steve winced, but nodded. “He did something… odd at lunch today.”

“Stark? Do something odd? Well, that certainly won’t make the paper,” Natasha teased.

“Funny. No, I meant… I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting it and I don’t really know what to make of it,” Steve admitted, slumping in defeat.

“Why don’t you tell me _what_ he did?” She pressed patiently.

“Well, this morning he asked if we were still going to the art gallery tonight, and I told him I’d planned to stop in at the shelter today instead. He usually doesn’t have any interest in coming to those, but he jumped right on it. He got really… hesitant later though, like he thought I was upset with for him imposing. Not like him at all. And then we got to the shelter and he wound up with these two rabbits – he’s bringing them home soon by the way – and he just kept looking at them _and_ me with… this expression of sheer _love_ and I can’t figure out why he’d look at _me_ that way. I understand the rabbits, they were adorable as all get out.

“We went to lunch afterwards at a diner down the street. It was all normal up until the end. He… I don’t think he realized he was doing it at first, but he started holding my hand. I didn’t understand what he was doing. I mean, was it a date? Did he mean for that to happen at all? I don’t know, but he freaked out when he realized what he was doing and he looked so upset all the way home,” Steve finished, distressed himself.

Natasha was still beside him, studying him with an unreadable expression. Steve stared back imploringly.

“Steve… you and Tony have been ‘hanging out’ with just the two of you,” She paused to make visible air quotes, “for about four months now, correct?”

“Yeah, I guess. We hung out before that too, but not as regularly.”

She stopped again, seeming to be struggling with phrasing her next question.

“What kinds of things were you two doing when you hang out?” Natasha asked slowly.

“Um… Movies, food breaks, walks… I don’t know, normal stuff?” Steve said helplessly.

“What kinds of things do you do when you hang out with Sam?”

Steve blinked, completely lost. “We go to ball games sometimes, or to bars to watch games. Why does this matter?”

“So, just to clarify, you do completely different activities when hanging out alone with Sam versus when hanging alone with Tony?” Natasha hinted.

“I guess-” Steve choked off. “Oh God. He thought we were dating, didn’t he?”

“Very much so. Tony came to me in an absolute panic four months ago, freaking out over what he was supposed to wear to his ‘Big Date With Captain America.’ With the way you two act around each other, I’d assumed you’d been dating since.”

Steve sat back against the sofa heavily, stunned. There was a vicious cocktail of disbelief, sheer panic, and a sliver of hope violently turning his insides. Tony had thought they were dating. For _four months._ Steve couldn’t even fathom how Tony had been feeling then. Did he think Steve was just being slow on the actual physical couple part?

Steve blinked, marvelling at how _patient_ Tony must have been. He’d probably thought Steve wasn’t comfortable with physical intimacy and was waiting on him to be ready-

“Oh jeez,” Steve huffed, burying his face in his hands.

“I had no idea you were _this_ obtuse, Steve,” Natasha chided, sharp tone soothed by the gentle touch of her hand on his back. “Tony has been over the moon with you for ages. He hasn’t even bothered trying to hide it. What did you think he was doing?”

“Acting?” Steve offered hesitantly and turning his head just enough to peek up at her through his fingers.

Her hand stilled. “Acting.”

“Yeah… I… I thought maybe he was just pretending to like me for team cohesion? It… sounds really stupid, but-”

“This is because of his movies, isn’t it?”

“There’s more than one?”

“Three that I’ve found so far. Tony apparently takes up acting jobs under an alias every now and then it would seem. The _only_ time I have ever seen him be insincere with _us_ is when he’s hiding something. But, he hasn’t been hiding _anything_ from you,” Natasha added fiercely. “So, what happened today is Tony tried to implement some couple-like behaviour, whether consciously or not, because he actually _really_ likes you and thought you two have been a couple for months, and he took your reaction as a complete rejection. Yes, Tony has done movies and is a _very_ talented actor. No, he has never pretended to like you or want to be around you.”

Steve let out a distressed whine.

“Now, what are you going to do about it?” Natasha pressed.

Steve sat for a moment longer, considering, then straightened and nodded. “I’m going to show Tony Stark what dating Steve Rogers is _actually_ like.”

Natasha smiled warmly and patted his shoulder. Steve rose, taking a brief moment to set down his mostly untouched soda before striding towards the elevator. He paused with his finger hovering over the buzzer.

“Thank you, Natasha. Oh, and by the way… Clint is definitely up to something,” Steve warned.

Natasha swore, springing from her seat and disappearing down the hall before the elevator had even opened. Steve stepped in and checked his watch. Plenty of time to fix this.

“Jarvis, is it alright if I…”

Instead of responding, the elevator simply began its smooth ascent upwards. All too soon, the doors were opening soundlessly into Tony’s private penthouse. Steve set off directly for the master suite, following the muted sounds of a television through the darkness. He could hear Tony’s voice, accented ever so slightly and talking quickly, but it had the ever so slight mechanical tin to it that told him it wasn’t the man himself talking. Steve slipped into the room, relieved when the lights immediately came on in a dim glow, and picked his way over to the bed. Tony was curled around his pillow, still fully dressed and still covered in rabbit hair. He blinked blearily when the lights came on and half turned his head to peer at Steve in bleary confusion.

“Ste-”

Steve sat on the edge of the bed beside him, smiling down at him warmly. Sleepy Tony was by far one of his favourites.

“Hey, it’s about dinner time,” Steve said softly. “C’mon, let’s go grab a bite.”

Tony propped himself up on an elbow, raising one hand to rub at his eyes. “Dinner? But… I thought-”

“I know. I’ll meet you in the garage in twenty, okay?” Steve offered.

Tony continued to blink at him in addled confusion. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“Great,” Steve exclaimed, giving in to his urge and leaning down to press a quick kiss to Tony’s forehead before standing and leisurely exiting the room.

He stepped on to the elevator, riding on this new feeling of elation for all of five seconds before the gravity of what he’d just done fully sunk in. He’d just arranged a _date_ with _Tony Stark_ and he didn’t even have a place picked out. Where did you even take someone rich enough to buy out the island of Manhattan for a dinner date?

“Sir is inquiring what sort of attire is required for tonight,” Jarvis piped up, breaking him out of his brief panic.

“Um. Casual. Nothing terribly fancy,” Steve replied.

The elevator opened to Steve’s floor and he quickly set to work getting himself ready. He hadn’t been quite as fur-covered as Tony, but he was still due for a change of clothing. Steve had marched into Tony’s room without much of a plan in mind, and was only just beginning to fully form one by the time he reached the garage and found Tony already there waiting for him, looking just as confused – if a bit less dazed – as he had when he’d been woken. Steve greeted him with a warm grin.

“I hope you like Italian. There’s this family run place not far from here that makes everything from scratch, it’s wonderful,” Steve praised, placing a hand on Tony’s lower back to steer him towards the Bentley.

“Um, yeah. Yes. I love Italian,” Tony stuttered.

Steve opened the door for him, waiting until he was in before shutting it and rounding the car to get behind the wheel. He turned on Tony’s favourite station, pausing to give him a look when he didn’t buckle up right away. Tony continued to stare at him for the duration of the drive, brow furrowed in contemplation. Steve filled the silence with description of the restaurant and what was best on the menu, comfortable holding the one-sided conversation for now. He made sure to open both the car door and the restaurant door for him, keeping a gentle hand on the small of his back the whole way, and even went as far as to pull out his chair for him when they were seated. He did, however, hand the wine menu directly over to Tony.

“You know wines a bit better than I do,” Steve admitted with a sheepish smile. “Something that’d go well with white sauce and steak?”

Tony blinked at him again, then slowly nodded and flipped open the wine list. He chose a bottle quickly enough, and Steve put in their orders in smooth Italian before turning back to his date. Tony was obviously still trying to figure out exactly what was going on.

“I hope you don’t mind me ordering for us? It’s their special, best thing they have,” Steve said.

Tony waved that off with a dismissive hand, face turning all at once apprehensive and determined. Steve waited.

“Is this a date?” Tony demanded.

“I was certainly hoping it would be,” Steve said lowly, fiddling with the table cloth.

He risked a glance across the table when he was met by silence. Tony was staring at him, eyes wide and lips parted. Steve dropped his gaze back to the table. Had he read this wrong? Was _Natasha_ wrong? Oh dear Lord, Steve had just made a total fool of himself, hadn’t he? Steve scrambled for something to say, some way to take this back and save the situation. God, he couldn’t _think._

A hand hesitantly closed over the back of his where it was knotted in the tablecloth. Steve’s head jerked up to find Tony smiling at him.

“Good,” Tony said.

Steve let out his breath in a whoosh, turning his hand over to to hold Tony’s in return. “Yeah?”

“Yeah… I’m guessing the ones before… weren’t actually dates?” Tony asked softly, watching Steve’s thumb brush over the backs of his fingers.

Steve sighed, shoulders slumping, and shook his head a bit.

“I… might not have been aware you were under the impression we were together. Natasha sorted that out after we got home today,” Steve admitted.

Tony went still, watching him suspiciously. “This isn’t a pity date, is it? ‘Cause-”

“What? No! Lord, no. This is… Well, this is _supposed_ to be me showing you what a date with me would actually be like. I’m not doing that great, am I?” Steve laughed weakly.

“You’re doing fine,” Tony assured, smiling again. “Let’s just see where this goes, alright?”

“Alright,” Steve agreed, finding himself mesmerised by the man across from him.

Fortunately, he was saved from having to formulate words by the arrival of their meals. They slid smoothly into their usual, easy meal-talk, made all the more special by the gentle linking of their ankles under the table. Steve couldn’t believe how comfortable it was between them, and how he had never noticed it before. No wonder Tony had thought they were dating. This was practically how they’d interacted normally even further back than four months ago.

They lingered over a shared chocolate lava cake and coffee for desert, neither quite willing to call it a night. The rest of the restaurant had mostly cleared out by this point, but Steve had a special relationship with the owners – he’d known the wife’s grandfather back before the war – and the waiter kept casually wandering by to refill their coffees, so he didn’t think they were being much of a bother. And so they stayed, chatting away over their mugs, the places between conversations filled with comfortable silence and warm smiles. It was only after Tony’s third yawn in five minutes that Steve accepted the closing of the date and quickly snuck the bill before Tony could notice, leaving exact change and tip in cash so he didn’t give him any time to argue either.

“Time to head home?” Steve suggested lightly.

Tony sighed and glanced down at his watch. “I think so. I’m supposed to be at a board meeting at noon tomorrow.”

“Which you’re not planning on going to,” Steve guessed.

“Of course not,” Tony confirmed, grinning.

They rose from their seats, Steve stepping around the table to offer Tony his arm, and Tony’s smile might have gone just a bit dopey at the action, but Steve wasn’t about to call him on it. He was probably wearing one to match anyway. They separated only long enough to enter and exit the car, holding hands over the gear shift and on the way into the elevator. When it opened to Steve’s floor, they both hesitated, unsure how to continue.

Steve turned to look down at him, raising his other hand to take Tony’s free one and turning him to face him.

“I… really enjoyed tonight,” Steve began, hesitant. “I hope you did?”

Tony smiled warmly, squeezing his hands. “I really, really did.”

“Good… You know… I was going to watch another movie from my Program, if you wanted to join me?” Steve offered hopefully.

Tony’s smile slid into something a bit more… promising. “Yeah, definitely.”

Surprising to absolutely no one, they didn’t make it more than five minutes past the start menu before Tony was settled squarely in Steve’s lap and they were kissing as if their lives depended on it. Steve would, on a much, much later date, demand they go back and rewatch the movie start to finish, but for now he was content in the sweet slide of their lips against one another and the feel of Tony’s gorgeously curved figure under his hands. The angle was a bit off, considering Tony sitting astride him actually put them at roughly the same height, and the denim of jeans was severely impractical for such an activity, though neither of them could be arsed enough to care.

Steve had to break away to breath properly, turning his attention to Tony’s neck in the absence of his mouth and sliding a hand just under the hem of Tony’s shirt onto the smooth stretch of his back. Tony arched in his arms and let out a breathless laugh before using his grip in Steve’s hair to pull him back up into a firm kiss.

Eventually, the heat began to dwindle into a pleasant simmer until they were simply lying in each other’s arms, completely entangled across the sofa cushions and grinning at each other. Brief kisses and nuzzles were traded now and then, though they’d admitted defeat after the fifth time Tony had yawned – Steve had never kissed anyone while yawning before and while it was fairly amusing, it wasn’t particularly practical nor all that nice. Tony seemed to agree on at after the third time he’d made Steve yawn in return, and so they settled to watch the very end of the movie that they’d completely missed.

Steve carefully extracted himself from the nearly asleep genius once the credits had finished and gently pulled the man to his feet. Tony blinked up at him blearily, the same adoring softness in his gaze as before, and Steve may or may not have actually melted a bit.

“Stay with me?” He asked, nudging Tony towards the bedroom. “Not to do anything, I mean. Just to sleep. Not that I’m _opposed_ to doing anything, I’d very much like to. But you’re tired and I’m kinda tired too and I didn’t think-”

Tony stretched up to cut him off with a chaste kiss. “I’d love to.”

Steve let out a long sigh and pulled Tony along with him into the bedroom. They separated only long enough to change – Steve in a pair of comfortable sweatpants and Tony in a borrowed shirt and his boxer briefs – before curling under the covers with a few drowsy kisses and gropes. Steve was absolutely delighted to find that Tony was a completely shameless cuddler, and quickly dozed off himself under the octopus sprawl that was Tony Stark.

 

It had been a very, _very_ long time since anything other than the rising sun or an Avengers call to action had woken Steve up. He was well used to waking up early in order to fit in his morning run, but he’d never had the need for an alarm clock. As soon as sunlight came streaming in through the window, Steve was up and ready to go.

On this particular morning, however, Steve was woken before the sunrise by soft lips peppering kisses over his face, which took claim of his mouth in a firm smooch once their owner realized Steve was awake. Fortunately for everyone involved, Steve was well aware of where he was and who that owner happened to be, and wasted no time in quickly flipping the other man off of him and pressing him down into the mattress. When his lips parted to allow access to Steve’s tongue, Steve was met with the sharp and rather unexpected taste of mint that had him pulling back to finally look down at him.

“When did you brush your teeth?” Steve asked.

“Like, three minutes ago. Why is that important enough to make you stop?” Tony complained.

“But how did you manage that without waking me up?” Steve demanded, pulling back further to avoid Tony’s seeking lips and frowning down at him in confusion.

“I don’t know, you were dead to the world. It’s in bad form to wake someone up with morning breath you know. Can we please go back to the kissing now? I went and brushed my teeth just for that purpose and now you’re making my efforts worthless,” Tony added seriously, still trying (and failing) to stretch up enough to kiss him.

Steve obliged with a small chuckle, lowering himself to rest some of his weight on him and force him back down onto the bed. Tony let out a little sigh at the contact and happily trailed his hands over Steve’s bare chest, blunt nails absently scraping a light path across his skin. In return, Steve gripped Tony’s hips to drag him closer and made his way to the crook of his neck, determined to leave a mark for all the world to see.

Unfortunately, Tony seemed to have other ideas.

He pulled Steve’s head back up for a quick, startlingly chaste kiss, then began pushing at him until Steve rolled off onto his side. Tony immediately hopped out of bed and began rummaging around for his discarded clothes.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting dressed, what does it look like?”

“Yes, I can see that, thank you. I meant _why_ are you doing that? I thought-”

“There’s work to do, Cap! So much work! I need to pick a room in the tower – preferably one that has access to a waterline already or something, and one close to my room but far enough away from the lab to be safe. Oh, it’ll need to be in the middle of the tower too. Safer there in case of accidental supervillain damages. Or fireworks. Maybe I can soundproof the walls? That shouldn’t be too difficult, do you think? J, start pulling up a list of the noise cancelling material we put in all the normal bedroom walls. I want to see if there’s any way to double it up or-”

“ _Tony._ ”

“What?”

Steve huffed out a breath, leaning against his headboard and watching the genius slowly put two and two together.

“Oh. Right, sorry,” Tony apologized. “I woke up a while ago with all these ideas in my head for designing the rabbit room. I want to get everything done before Tuesday so I can spend the rest of the week working on supplies and bunny-proofing.”

“It’s okay. You’re cute when you’re excited like this,” Steve said fondly. “Just… Kinda did a complete subject change on a dime there, doll.”

Tony’s eyes widened in realization. “ _Oh._ I hadn’t even- I didn’t mean to- um… Redo?”

Steve couldn’t help laughing a bit as Tony jumped back onto the bed beside him, but he accepted his kiss without complaint. He did, somewhat reluctantly, nudge Tony away after only a few seconds.

“We have all the time in the world, Tony. C’mon, let’s get breakfast and work up some plans for the rabbit room. I’m gonna need time to decide where to take you for our second date tonight anyway, so I might as well help with construction,” Steve offered.

Tony blinked, processing. “Oh, that’s _perfect._ With you doing the heavy lifting I won’t have to waste time getting in and out of the suit.”

Steve rolled his eyes as Tony bounced right back out of bed and hurried off through the door, still in Steve’s t-shirt and his underwear.

 

Tony ended up settling on the unused rooms beside his own, which he planned to connect together immediately, and started drawing out plans with Jarvis while Steve set to work knocking out the wall separating Tony’s sitting area and what would soon be the bunny room. Steve knew Tony could easily have hired someone to complete all of this within the day if he’d really wanted. No, something this important to him had to be done himself.

Under Tony’s guidance they managed to get an archway set up between the Bunny Room and sitting area before noon. Tony planned to instal a small retractable gate to separate the two, and was working out a way to create a moveable fence in order to enclose the Bunny Room to a smaller area while still allowing it to be expanded in the future.

“That’s really important to have right away,” Tony explained, making Steve hold the end of a measuring tape as he ran around to different walls of the room. “If the buns get too much new territory all of a sudden, you can end up getting one becoming territorial and deciding to become the ‘alpha bun.’ That can lead to fights, which leads to owies, which leads to vet bills and unbonded bunnies. Bad, bad, bad.”

Steve was learning a lot about rabbits that morning. More precisely, he was getting a 101 Ways You Can Accidentally Kill Your Rabbit rundown that was actually starting to make him a bit nervous about the impending adoption.

“I’m gonna need a litter bin in a corner somewhere… I wonder if I can design one that self cleans? Is that a thing yet?” Tony asked absently.

“Rabbits use a litter bin?” Steve countered.

“Oh, yeah. They prefer to go in one spot, usually while munching on something. Maybe I can suspend another hay trap over that bin too? And this carpet will definitely need to go. Need something more natural, easier to clean,” Tony mumbled, eyeing it.

He went on to ramble about other little changes they’d need to do – the baseboards around the room needed to be removed or covered with a harder wood, some sort of air circulation system needed to be set up that didn’t involve a ceiling fan (They’re prey animals, Steve. Know what a ceiling fan looks like? Hawks. Bad for buns.), some form of seating needed to be moved in that the rabbits couldn’t tear up too badly but that could also be de-furred easily (So much hair, Steve. _So. Much. Hair._ ), and Tony wanted to instal a tv in the wall across from whatever furniture he moved in (You can only sit and stare at them for so long. They like you being there, even if you’re not paying full attention to them.)

“How do you think they’d feel about Roombas?” Tony asked offhandedly.

“Based on what you’ve told me so far, it’d probably scare them,” Steve joked.

“Probably…” Tony agreed.

“Bad for buns?” Steve guessed.

“Bad for buns,” Tony confirmed.

That had become the simplified summary of the 101 lesson.

“Hey, it’s about lunch time. Want to take a break while we wait for the carpet and stuff to be delivered?” Steve suggested, walking over to stand beside him and slide an arm around his waist.

Tony leaned into his side and surveyed the room for a long moment before nodding decisively. “Lunch time.”

Steve led the way, trading his hold around Tony’s middle for his hand instead. Tony gave his hand a reflexive squeeze, but his eyes were distant – no doubt still running through all the possible options for the Bunny Room. They were met in the kitchen by Clint and Thor, who were apparently in the middle of an eating contest involving pizza rolls. Steve mentally placed his bet on Thor.

“You know,” Clint said around a mouthful of what was probably still molten pizza, “if it wasn’t for all the wall plaster on you two I’d offer a congratulations.”

Steve paused, turning to look at Tony and trying to figure out just what he was getting at. Tony was still in Steve’s shirt and sweatpants, both were comically too large for him and he’d ended up rolling up the pant legs on the sweats just to walk in them. His hair was a complete mess from him constantly running his hands through it, his cheeks were still flushed from ripping out the carpet, he had a thin sheen of sweat across his skin, and his bottom lip was reddened and swollen from him chewing on it in thought. Besides being covered in drywall dust, he looked well and thoroughly _edible._

Steve felt his face catch fire and turned his attention to the fridge, knowing he must look very much the same.

“Congratulate what?” Thor asked, looking between everyone.

His gaze landed solidly on Tony’s neck and he broke into a huge grin, completely abandoning his plate of pizza rolls to come over and wrap both Steve and Tony in a bone crushing hug. Clint promptly slid some of his own rolls onto Thor’s plate to lessen his load.

“CONGRATULATIONS, MY FRIENDS,” Thor boomed.

“Why are people being congratulated?” Bruce piped up warily from the doorway, edging his way carefully around them towards the coffeemaker.

“Our good Captain and the Man of Iron have finally consummated their love!” Thor declared loudly.

Clint choked on a pizza roll and Tony seemed to finally snap fully out of his scheming.

“Whoa wait,” Clint coughed. “Really? _When?! How?!_ C’mon, man, I need details. I have a _lot_ of money in that pool-”

“What now?” Bruce asked, startled.

“See here!” Thor commanded, releasing them in order to point at the dark bruise on Tony’s neck.

“Oh my god, you _did!”_ Clint crowed.

“No-” Steve tried to protest.

“I thought you two have been together for months? How is this a new thing?” Bruce spoke over him.

“Well, we actually _weren’t-”_ Tony began.

“What was the date yesterday? Was it still in the first week of the month or did we make it into the second? ‘Cause if we did I just won a _shit ton_ of-”

“Guys, really. Not that it’s _any_ of your business, but we didn’t… what was it you said, Thor? ‘Consummate our love?’ No, that didn’t happen. At least. Not yet. But there was no love. Or consummation. None of that occurred,” Tony rushed out.

Steve frowned, turning to face him. “There was a little bit of love, right?”

Tony’s eyes went wide and Steve’s heart subsequently dropped.

“Or not… Too early for that, I guess. Sorry. I’ll just… lunch, right? Sandwiches okay?” Steve offered weakly, turning back to the fridge.

The kitchen had fallen silent and Steve fought desperately to keep his focus on digging out sandwich fixings instead of looking back to see everyone’s expressions. He was interrupted from setting out all the ingredients by a timid hand on his shoulder. Steve reluctantly allowed himself to be turned around. Everyone else had, apparently, snuck out of the kitchen without a sound, leaving only him and Tony. Tony was studying his face warily, grip tightening on Steve’s upper arm at whatever he found there.

Slowly, with a measure of timidness that Steve would never have believed could be found in him, Tony stretched up to press a small kiss to Steve’s lips. Tony remained still, leaving his lips against Steve’s for a long moment, then just as hesitantly withdrew.

“I… Yeah, there was a bit of love,” Tony said softly, dropping both Steve’s arm and his gaze.

Steve reached out to gently tip Tony’s chin back up before leaning down to an equally small kiss to his lips.

“I’m glad,” Steve hummed. “C’mon, the delivery is going to be here soon. Let’s have lunch. Sandwiches still okay?”

“Yeah… Yeah, that’s still okay.”

Steve returned to the counter, calmly preparing their meals while Tony retreated to the table. He was nearly done making them when Tony finally spoke again.

“Steve?”

“Yes, hun?”

“Thanks.”

* * *

 

Their dinner date that night ended up being postponed thanks to a sudden visit from Thor’s beloved brother, Loki. Loki had never tried anything as significant as the alien army again, but ever since escaping Asgardian prison he’d taken to pestering the people of Earth whenever he got bored. It was never anything that made sense or served any sort of purpose other than to be completely annoying. This usually entailed releasing all sorts of random and equally bothersome creatures onto the streets of New York.

Funnily enough, the citizens of the city had gotten so accustomed to strange monsters destroying everything that they didn’t always call the Avengers to deal with it. Sometimes the local law enforcement or just their own stubbornness was enough to subdue the beasts, leaving only the particularly strange or dangerous ones for the team take care of.

Monday afternoon featured a very long debriefing with Fury about the attack, and Tony made it considerably longer due to his inability to pay attention to anything other than plans for the Bunny Room. Steve only made a few attempts to regain his focus before giving up entirely on the meeting and spending the remainder of it doodling and only half listening to Fury’s ravings.

Afterwards, the team all piled into a local cafe for dinner following a silent but mutual agreement that no one was in the mood for cooking tonight. Tony continued to jot down ideas on the back of a napkin. Steve showed great restraint in not commenting on the fact that it was a cloth napkin.

Tuesday was the team dedicated community day, which meant they spent the day in various places of the city doing work in the community or attending charity events. Oddly enough, no villains had ever caused trouble on a Tuesday. This particular week found Steve and Tony back at the rabbit shelter, and Tony very nearly put in the adoption for _another_ pair of rabbits before noon. (“But Steve, this way _you_ could have your own pair too!” “Let’s just see how everything goes with the first pair before we rush into another, okay?” “That’s not a no.” “ _Tony.”)_

Tuesdays were also dedicated as Team Movie/Game Night – which was also something no villain dared interrupt – so any hopes of planning another date were pointless. Tony made sure to snuggle himself half on top of Steve during the movie to stop him from pouting. They didn’t get to head to bed until nearly three a.m. thanks to Clint’s insistence that they watch the sequel movie _immediately_ , and Tony was already face down asleep on the bed by the time Steve finished brushing his teeth.

Wednesday was a mad rush to finish up everything in the Bunny Room, along with a spur of shopping for supplies. Tony bought a mini fridge for the room, attempted to carry it up himself, nearly threw out his back, and was threatening to put on the suit before Steve managed to soothe him _and_ get the fridge into the room. It took both of them to untangle and assemble the five-by-five cage, which Tony immediately began filling with supplies. He hadn’t been able to make a self-cleaning litter bin, but he’d had Jarvis instal a pseudo laundry shoot in the wall that he could simply dump the thing into instead of having to lug it all the way down to the dumpsters. Jarvis was a bit tight lipped about _where_ the shoot happened to let out, only assuring them that it was a very Green disposal method. Steve was understandably suspicious of this. Tony knew better than to ask too many questions.

Steve managed to get their second dinner date planned, but they were only just sitting down at their table when the Avenger Alarm sounded through their cards. Steve looked more crestfallen than annoyed as they suited up in the parking lot, and it took a long, thorough kiss and a quick promise of “Next time, sweetheart. There’ll be a next time” before he could get into focus.

The alarm was in response to _another_ boredom strike from Loki, this time in the form of four car-sized dragons. They all seemed to be spitting completely different things from each other; one a standard fire breather, the green one some corrosive liquid, boiling water from another, and what appeared to be chemically reinforced _ice_ from the last, as Clint very quickly found out. They managed to subdue the confused lizards easily enough, save for Clint’s frost nipped toes and a half-melted jet boot for Tony, but Loki once again flounced off before the fight was even over. Someone was going to have to have a serious talk with Thor about his brother, and Tony very much didn’t want to pull that short straw.

Fury demanded a debrief right away, and only Tony’s lopsided jets kept him from escaping it. By the time they made it home, it was closing in on midnight, everyone was exhausted and somewhat grumpy, and no one was looking forward to the press conference that was sure to be called in the morning. Steve fell asleep during the first ten minutes into the next movie of his MEP list, and Tony didn’t have the heart to wake him so they could move to a bed.

He sorely regretted that decision the following morning, as he refused to admit to himself that he wasn’t young enough anymore to be spending the night on a rarely used and not entirely broken in sofa. The press conference, miraculously, was _not_ called, and Tony decided to celebrate it by dragging Steve to the nearest iHop.

Tony had fully intended to spend as long as needed afterwards repairing and improving his destroyed boot, but was very enthusiastically waylaid by Steve and instead found himself seated on top of his work table with an equally impassioned super soldier between his legs. His only complaint with the sudden change of plans was the fact that the pants he happened to be wearing became incredibly uncomfortable very quickly, and Steve seemed to be taking his time with the proceedings.

His fingers had only just slipped under the hem of Tony’s shirt when the Avengers Alarm sounded. Tony thumped his forehead into Steve’s with a frustrated sigh.

“Whoever it is this time, I’m going to repulser them in the face,” Tony promised, earning a halfhearted chuckle from Steve.

Today’s threat wasn’t really a threat at all. In the middle of Central Park was a massive herd of unnaturally large and positively _glittering_ elk. The elk didn’t seem at all bothered by their new surroundings and were completely unresponsive to the efforts of local law enforcement to herd them in any way. What’s more, the sparkly creatures could apparently also _fly._

“So,” Clint began over the comms.

“If you make one Christmas or reindeer joke I swear to Jolly Ol’ Saint Nicholas you’re getting nothing but coal this year,” Tony shot back immediately.

“Aw, come on!”

“No, no. Joke away. I just wanted to make one first.”

“Guys, focus,” Steve reprimanded lightly. “We need to figure out what to do with these things.”

“Take ‘em to the North Pole? Sell them to Santa workshops around the globe?” Tony offered.

“Where did they even come from?” Bruce asked from where he was absently petting the muzzle of a calf that had wandered over.

“They are not of Midgard,” Thor announced. “They belong to the elves.”

“You’re kidding,” Clint choked.

“I fear not.”

“Oh, this is just priceless,” Clint cackled.

“Um, little help over here?”

All heads turned to Bruce, who had suddenly been swarmed by a small group of nuzzling elk. He was very carefully trying to extract himself from the cluster, only to attract the attention of _more_ the second he was out.

“Well, that solves how we move them,” Natasha quipped. “But where do we send them?”

“If we can get them to a larger open space, I can call upon Heimdal to retrieve them,” Thor said. “It is undoubtedly the work of my brother that brought them here.”

“What’s his deal lately?” Tony grumped, already swooping in to carry Bruce over to the nearest trailer.

As hoped, the herd followed.

“I don’t know, but whatever it is he really needs to chill,” Clint grumped.

It took a further three hours to load the elk into trailers – which were generously provided by literally anyone and everyone who had one to spare – and another two to transport them all to an open field so they could be shipped back to Asgard. Loki hadn’t shown his face at all during the day, and Tony couldn’t help but wonder what kind of amusement he got from meaningless actions like this.

Debrief was followed directly by the dreaded press conference. It was inevitable, but unwanted nonetheless; the people wanted to know why the heck weird things kept popping up in their city for no apparent reason, and the only answer the team could give was that Loki was bored. It was the only thing they could figure anyway. Unless Loki was secretly devising a whole new evil scheme and was using the creatures as a distraction for the Avengers, but he hadn’t shown that much motivation in years.

Everyone fell asleep in the living room that evening after gorging on a truly obscene amount of pizza. Friday was devoted primarily into putting the final touches into the Bunny Room and collecting every last bit of supplies Tony could possibly need for them. He’d already confirmed the pick-up time with the shelter for tomorrow at noon, and was so excited he kept coming up with new things to build or change in the room until Steve finally managed to corral him onto the Bunny Room futon.

When that failed after a mere ten minutes, Steve all but dragged him out of the tower and down to a Steakhouse for lunch. Tony was all too happy to get their second shot at the second date, especially when Natasha had secreted their cards off them before they left with a knowing grin. It would take a disaster of massive proportions to interrupt _this_ date.

“So,” Tony began, still skimming over his menu even though he was pretty certain he’d already chosen. “Do I get to pay for this one?”

“Of course not,” Steve said immediately. “You payed at iHop. Besides, he who plans it, pays it.”

Tony lowered the menu and narrowed his eyes at him. “I have never heard that rule. Ever. In all my life.”

“What? That’s totally a rule. I read it on Tumblr somewhere,” Steve added earnestly.

“ _Who_ let you on Tumblr-” He stopped, sighing. “It was Clint, wasn’t it?”

“Natasha, actually. She was looking at… fandom art? Fanart? That. She was looking at fanart of… us, and I happened to catch a glimpse and… There are some very talented artist out there, did you know?” Steve asked, grinning. “Writers too.”

“You mean to tell me… that _you,_ Captain _America,_ have been looking at fanart and reading fanfics about _us_ ,” Tony said slowly.

Steve nodded, grinning broader. “We’re called Stony.”

Tony broke down into near hysteric laughter, doing his best to muffle it, and it was only the brush of Steve’s ankle against his under the table that got him to compose himself. He looked up to see Steve smirking a bit, eyes full of mirth.

“You are totally trolling me right now, aren’t you?” Tony gasped.

Steve simply returned his attention to the menu, though his leg pressed a bit more firmly against Tony’s. This date went even more smoothly than the first, if that was even possibly, and by the end Tony was having trouble figuring out if his heart was fluttering due to a reactor malfunction or something a bit more… sentimental.

If it _was_ a reactor problem, he’d have to check it later, because there was no way in hell he was derailing where they were headed.

Everyone on the team has seen Tony naked at least once. Mostly because he had a tendency to sleep that way and these people had no idea how to knock. Tony, for all his grief, had never received the blessing of seeing _Steve_ naked before, and the sight all but confirmed a serious reactor malfunction. So much so that Tony had to take a moment to press a hand over it, just to make sure it wasn’t actually throwing out sparks like it felt like it was.

When he didn’t get electrocuted or summarily explode, Tony had no reserves about shoving Steve down onto the bed and straddling him. There was a brief twinge of self consciousness that always came with being around someone so unfairly _perfect_ , but the expression of sheer want on Steve’s face was enough to soothe it. Tony lost any hints of doubt in the beautiful slide of their lips together, the sheer bliss of their bare skin against each other. He didn’t fight it at all when Steve took control, when he was pressed back and down into the mattress by the solid frame of his lover, or when his knees were gently nudged apart to make room for his hips.

They rocked together, purely enjoying the proximity, no rush in the world. Perhaps they should’ve had some urgency, moved things along just a bit faster. It hardly mattered in the long run. Neither of them had even made a move to retrieve supplies yet when the Alarm shrieked through the tower. They both froze in their movements, Tony’s legs slipping off from where they’d been wrapped around Steve’s waist, his head falling back against the pillow so he could glare up at the ceiling. Steve, for his part, simply dropped his forehead onto Tony’s reactor and let out an incredibly frustrated and annoyed groan.

“I am going to hurt Loki,” Steve swore, voice muffled into Tony’s chest.

“Please, _please_ do. He is officially on my shit list,” Tony huffed. “Don’t suppose we could pretend we didn’t hear it? Be a little bit late?”

“Sirs,” Jarvis piped up from the ceiling, making them both jump. “It would appear Loki has developed a taste for arson.”

Tony let out a loud groan and very, _very_ reluctantly wormed his way out from under Steve. Steve, for a long moment, remained on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling and shaking his head, before finally getting up to put on his suit. Tony was already out of the room, making the trip across the hall to his own in shameless nudity and taking a mental note to design suit-access from Steve’s rooms too.

By the time they made it on scene, which was just a minute behind the fire department, two apartment complexes were up in flames and one appeared to be on the verge of collapse. Fortunately, that one was already cleared out. There was a woman being held back in the gathered crowd, however, screaming about her daughter still being inside the other one.

Tony didn’t need anything more before heading in. The kid, who was actually less of a kid and more of a late teenager, was trapped in her bedroom, pressed as close to a semi-open window as she could get and clutching a small cardboard box in her lap. The window, apparently, was one of those useless types that you couldn’t actually open all the way. She jumped to her feet the moment she saw him, shoulders sagging in relief.

“Come here, step onto my boot and hold on tight,” Tony ordered, ushering her in close.

She did as ordered, a bit hesitant to come into contact with the suit but more than alright to clutch onto it when she realized the metal was cool. Tony blasted out the window, and was almost instantly met with a fine spray of water from the firehose below. The girl immediately shrieked and tried to turn her back to the mist, curling protectively over the box which… had a very small heat signature in it.

“Don’t let her get wet!” She cried, trying to block the water with her body. “It’ll kill her!”

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t,” Tony promised, carefully extracting the box from her arms and securing it in his.

She hesitantly returned her grip around his middle, still eyeing the box with concern. The little heat signature scampered to the other side of its container at the movement, proving that it was in fact something alive. True to his word, Tony avoided the water completely and very gently made his descent back towards where her mother was waiting. The second they were on the ground, the woman broke free and all but tackled her daughter.

Tony took the time to lift his faceplate and carefully pulled open a flap of the box to peer inside. A small ball of grey fluff stared back at him from where it huddled in a corner.

“Oh my sweet ball of adorable,” Tony breathed. “Kid, what is this?”

She turned back to him now, immediately reaching out to take the box and check on the small animal herself.

“It’s a chinchilla,” She said, slowly but deliberately reaching down to stroke the small animal’s head.

It ducked a bit at the first touch but didn’t otherwise react. Tony stared at it in awe.

“Can I touch it?” He practically begged.

The girl eyed his gauntleted hands warily. Tony immediately stripped one off and waved his now bare fingers at her, waiting for her permission before reaching in with the same amount of care he’d seen her demonstrate. His fingers there met by the the softest cloud of fluff he’d ever encountered in his life.

“I need ten,” He decided aloud.

“Ten of what, exactly?” Steve’s voice broke in behind him.

“Steve! Steve, you have to come pet this lil thing,” Tony gushed, carefully extracting his hand from the box _before_ whirling around. “Seriously. You need to touch her. Do it.”

Steve side-eyed him for a moment, but did remove his glove and approach. The girl happily held it out for him, appearing more than a little bit starstruck, and Steve reached in to pet it. His eyes went wide.

“I _know_ right?! I need one,” Tony said.

If his armor didn’t weigh so much he’d probably be bouncing in place.

“Tony, you’re already getting rabbits. _Tomorrow,_ no less,” Steve chided.

“But, Steve. The _fluff._ ”

“Bunnies, Tony.”

Steve bid the mother, girl, and the small ball of fluff a quick farewell before forcibly guiding Tony back towards where the team was assembled around one of the trucks. Tony continued to try to sway Steve into the benefits of getting a chinchilla – his argument mostly came down to them needing that amount of sheer adorable softness in their lives – up until they were suddenly intercepted by an anxious looking Loki.

“The child,” Loki demanded, nodding back towards the chinchilla owner. “Is she alright?”

“She’s fine, no thanks to you,” Steve said without an ounce of kindness.

“The spell went wrong. It was supposed to summon a _frost_ giant, not a fire demon,” Loki growled in annoyance. “This was not what I intended.”

“And what exactly _did_ you intend?” Tony spat.

Loki’s expression suddenly broke into a rather unnerving grin. “My dearest Stark, I assure you this past week has not been with the intent of any nefarious and long term plans. I simply found great amusement in… oh, what’s the phrase? ‘Cock blocking?’ Yes, I believe that’s it. Yes, cock blocking you and the Captain.”

Steve’s eye twitched.

“Alas, my fun is over. Until next time, Avengers,” Loki purred.

He disappeared before Tony could bring his hand up to shoot him. Tony started swearing, violently, and Steve promptly reached over to close his faceplate before the bystanders could hear. With an air of calmness Tony found rather impressive, Steve raised a hand to activate his comm.

“Thor, it would be very beneficial to your brother’s continued survival if he didn’t bother or interrupt us again for at least a month,” Steve announced lightly.

“I am not sure-”

“Thor. I _will_ kill him.”

There was a pause.

“I will pass along this message, Captain.”

Tony waited for Steve to turn back to him and wrapped an arm around his waist, giving him a bit of a tug so that Steve would step up onto his boot.

“Please tell me you have everything taken care of here,” Tony begged.

“It’s all done. Get us home, Iron Man.”

 

Tony hurried across the hall the second he was out of armor and was immediately pulled into a rough kiss by an only half undressed Steve… who absolutely reeked. Tony shoved him back, scrunching his nose in distaste.

“Oh my god,” Tony coughed. “You smell awful.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “So do you.”

“I was in the suit-”

“Super senses, Tony. C’mon, let’s shower,” Steve decided.

Tony allowed himself to be dragged towards the bathroom, already shucking his socks and pants along the way. If Tony had been stunned by merely a naked Steve in the bedroom earlier, he was woefully unprepared for six feet of water slick super soldier under the shower.

“Tony? Are you alright?” Steve asked.

Tony blinked, realizing he’d stopped outside of the large shower stall. “I think my arc reactor is on the fritz,” He said numbly.

Steve’s brow furrowed in concern.

“Sir, I assure you the reactor is operating well within its boundaries,” Jarvis broke in.

“Yes, thank you, J. Time to go night-night please,” Tony huffed, ducking his head as Steve reached out to gently draw him in and under the spray.

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, Tony,” Steve murmured. “But you really do stink, so showering is a definite.”

“What a charmer,” Tony droned. “No, I’m completely fine with this. More than fine. Like, we need to hurry this up so you can take me to bed and fuck me through the mattress level fine.”

The words had barely left his mouth before Tony found himself herded up against the cold tile and kissed silly. He very happily complied up until he needed to take a breath, at which point he once again pushed Steve away.

“Okay, seriously. Now you just smell like wet ash. Clean first, _then_ sex,” Tony emphasised, reaching for the soap.

Steve laughed, leaning in to steal one last kiss before claiming the soap from him and setting to work lathering them up. Once the smell of smoke had been drowned out by the clean scent of soap, Tony reinitiated the kissing. He was very much not prepared to be suddenly lifted off the ground and pressed into the cold tile again once they’d rinsed off – more or less – but he wasn’t complaining either.

“Oh shit,” He gasped. “So many fantasies. No, no. Bed, need the bed tonight. I don’t plan on moving again until it’s time to go to the shelter.”

Steve huffed in amusement into his neck where he had been reestablishing his mark, and quickly reached over to turn off the water. Tony, unused to having been carried by anyone every, clung to him as Steve hurried back to the bedroom. The second Tony’s back hit the mattress he was rolling away to route through the nightstand for lube and condoms. Steve moulded himself to Tony’s back, nipping at his shoulders and neck and grinding his frankly mouth watering erection against his ass. Tony all but threw the supplies back at him.

“Fuck, Steve, hurry up please,” Tony whined, arching back into him.

He didn’t bother asking if Steve had done this before; the efficiency with which Steve started preparing him with more than answered that question. Before long Tony was babbling nonsense into the sheets, interspersed now and then with curses at Steve to hurry up, but Steve seemed more than content to start taking his time with proceedings.

“Steve, for fuck’s sake hurry up before we get interrupted again or something,” Tony growled, fingers knotting around the pillow in his grip at a particularly delicious curl of Steve’s fingers.

“Nothing is going to interrupt us,” Steve rumbled, leaning in to nibble at his ear. “I made sure of it. Nat has everything handled for the next two days.”

“Two?” Tony echoed on a gasp as the fingers were withdrawn.

“More time for this,” Steve explained, lining up and sinking his cock easily into him in one smooth glide, “and for getting the rabbits adjusted.”

“Oh god, don’t talk to me about my fuzzy children while balls deep in my ass please,” Tony groaned and buried his face in the pillow.

Steve chuckled over him, leaning down to cover the smaller man completely and moving his hips in slow, deep rolls against Tony’s ass. Tony let out a small whine and quickly reached out to entwine his fingers through Steve’s hand beside his head. Still peppering his shoulders with kisses and nips, Steve propped himself up a bit to begin thrusting in earnest and swore under his breath. Each snap of his hips was accompanied by a soft grunt, nearly lost under the shameless cries coming from Tony and the wet slap of skin. Tony was making no attempt to muffle himself and was practically writhing, torn between rutting into the mattress and shoving back onto Steve’s wonderful cock.

Steve carefully shifted his weight onto his forearm, not letting of Tony’s hand, and slid his now free arm under Tony’s hips to raise him up just a tad more. Tony immediately shouted at the new angle and starting coming apart completely in his arms. Steve adjusted further to take him in hand, using only a few quick strokes to send Tony over the edge. Unlike the unabashed loudness Tony exhibited while being fucked, he came with no more than an airless cry. Steve, taken by surprise at the sudden difference and just how completely _breathtaking_ he found it, followed him over with a loud and prolonged moan.

They lay still for some numerous heartbeats, Steve’s forehead resting between Tony’s shoulder blades and Tony trembling breathlessly beneath him. Steve pulled himself together enough to tenderly withdraw and dispose of the condom before dropping gracelessly on the bed beside him. It took Tony a few minutes longer to drag himself closer.

“That… was more than worth the wait,” Tony hummed, already dozing off.

“Maybe we should send Loki a thank you card,” Steve suggested.

“Don’t tempt me. Might actually be worth it just to see the look on his face,” Tony snickered into Steve’s chest.

Steve snorted at the idea, but didn’t outright protest it.

 

 

Two Months Later 

Steve entered the Bunny Room with two thermoses of fresh coffee. They’d learned early on (molting month) that it was better to have closed beverages in the room in order to avoid accidental hair ingestion. In a well practiced dance, Steve weaved his way around the two curious rabbits until he was able to drop down on the futon beside Tony. The genius looked up from his tablet with a warm smile and his thermos was gladly exchanged for a kiss.

Ransom, the brown rabbit, came over to inspect the oddly smelling thermos before shaking his head and hopping over to Holster, who greeted him with a quick ear grooming. The two were up and playing tag not a minute later. Holster’s mad dash around the room was brought to a jolting stop when he collided with Steve’s calf. The grey bun gave his leg a nip as if it was his fault he’d run into it and Steve reached down to shoo him away. Holster moved away, but not before bucking and shaking his head – which, Steve had learned, was the rabbit equivalent of a middle finger.

Steve just shook his head in amusement and dropped his arm around Tony’s shoulders. Tony instantly scooted over to fit into his side, still pecking away at his tablet.

“You never did fully explain why you named them what you did,” Steve mentioned, watching the two demolish one of their wicker balls.

“It’s from a webcomic,” Tony said absently. “You’re not the only one on Tumblr, you know.”

Steve paused, then laughed. “You know, I noticed some fanfics recently that were just _way_ too accurate to be fan made…”

“Don’t hate, those writers are pretty good in their own rights. But yes. That was me. I enjoy trolling our public just as much as you,” Tony answered.

He put aside the tablet to half turn towards Steve, eyes twinkling with mirth. Steve shook his head and leaned in over him.

“Do I really have a ‘Righteous Eyebrow of Judgement?’” He quoted, raising said righteous brow.

“Totally. You’re doing it right now!”

“I am not-”

“You are so. And don’t forget the Patriotic Booty of Adonis,” Tony added, sneaking a hand to grip the asset in question.

Steve rolled his eyes and moved in to kiss the wicked grin off his lover’s face. He was prevented from pressing forward more by Tony’s hand on his chest and drew back to frown at him questioningly. Tony gave him a meaningful look.

“No PDA in front of the children, Rogers. They’re only two years old,” Tony scolded. “You’ll traumatize them.”

As if to emphasize the point, one of the buns chose that moment to honk and thump their foot. Steve looked up to see Ransom side-eyeing them warily and ducked his head to laugh into Tony’s neck. He withdrew a moment later though, retrieving Tony’s tablet and their coffees.

“Why don’t we move to the bedroom then, dear?” Steve proposed lowly. “I’m sure Thor wouldn’t mind sitting with them for a bit. They adore him.”

Tony blinked at him owlishly. “Yep. Yeah. That’s a good plan. I’ll just call for Thor then. Meet you there?”

“Don’t keep me waiting too long now, Tony.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, love,” Tony said sincerely.

Steve didn’t doubt him for a second.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This one kinda got away from me. I had no idea where I was going from start to finish.  
> RDJ did star as Chaplin in the 1992 film, I thought he did rather well. That little movie put the idea: huh, wouldn't it be fun if Tony Stark had actually done that. And then suddenly this all happened.  
> If anyone wants fun facts or the actual 101 rundown on bunnies, I'm the person to go to. I own two, but they are really finicky animals and surprisingly easy to harm. Like, 90% of stuff at a pet store advertised towards buns will actually kill them. I also know a good deal about chinchillas.  
> The names Ransom and Holster comes from the tumblr webcomic Check Please! and I highly recommend it to everyone under the sun. Gay hockey, with pies.


End file.
